Through the Years
by fordcolin
Summary: Drabbles about Sam and Dean's relationship through the years.
1. New

_'Ello. So, this is basically a 100 Drabble Challenge, it's kind of Weecest, but leads to Wincest? It starts with Sam at age 15 and then up until around the time he leaves for Stanford, but his age bounces around. So I hope ya'll like it!_

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><p>Sam's faced lots of things. Vampires, demons, werewolves, you name it, he's killed it. Nothing scares him anymore, nothing can knock him off guard. When you've done what Sam's done and gone through what he's gone through, it's just about next to impossible.<p>

But this is different. This is new. Sometimes new is bad. Sam had always hated new, the new motel's, the new school's, the new bullies. But this was good. This was a good new, Sam loved this new. This was a new change that he would be more than happy to get used to.

The new changes consisted of the way Dean used to be so rough with Sam, not even thinking before nudging him teasingly or smacking him upside the head. But now he's so gentle with Sam, his little brother, his Sammy. Gentle caresses, gentle touches, gentle kisses.

The way Dean acted around Sam was different too. Before, Dean could care less really. He acted however he pleased, not caring what anyone thought, just home alone with Sam or out in public. But now he was proper, he smiled at Sam, doted on him when he did something he shouldn't have. He took care of him.

"Dean are you okay?" Sam finally asked one day.

"Of course. Never better, Sammy." Dean said, patting Sam on the shoulder. Sam felt the hesitation and noticed the way Dean barely brushed his shoulder.

"No. You're not. You're being weird around me."

Sam knew Dean better than anyone. He frowned, his stomach turning, feeling completely uneasy. Dean was bull shitting him and he didn't know why.

"No I'm not."

Sam liked the new's, but hated the new. He liked each individual factor, but hated the product.

"You're a completely new person." Sam mumbles past the lump in his throat.

Then there's a hand on the back of his neck, and his head's being tilted back, lips meeting his own. In this moment, everything's okay.


	2. Broken

Dean knows a broken hand when he sees one. And Sam's broken his had enough times to know what a broken hand feels like. Yet every time he forgets just how much it hurts. In fact every time it seems to get prgressively painful. Dean can't stop his grimaces as Sam cries out at even the tiniest of nudges against the swollen digits.

"Dean," Sam growls between his teeth, "I am quite capable of _walking_. It's my hand that's broken, not my legs."

Dean scoffs, "Please, you're shaking like a leaf, you wouldn't be able to walk five steps without falling onto your ass." He raises an eyebrow, "Or your face. And then you'll really fuck up your hand trying to save your clumsy ass."

Sam tears his gaze away from Dean, his cheeks flushing red, "Fine. Just take me to the hospital or somethin' to get my fuckin' hand fixed."

"Sam, are you shitting me? We're covered in blood- someone else's blood -and not a scratch on our body. Plus you going in with a broken hand?" Dean shakes his head, "We scream guilty. No sirree, I'm fixing your hand tonight."

Sam is terrified.

Later that night, Dean is attempting to gently wrap gauze around Sam's hand, but it's twice it's normal size, and Sam won't stop tugging it away and yelping every time Dean barely grazes it.

"For Christ's sakes, Sam, I don't wanna sound like an asshole, but suck it up!" Dean snarls, reaching for Sam's hand.

Sam pulls it away again, "Jesus, you're so brutal!"

Dean snorts, "That's what she said."

"Oh, grow up will-" But Sam cuts himself off with his own yelp, Dean roughly grabbing his hand and slamming it down onto the table. Sam all but howls.

"That'll teach ya." Dean snickers, quickly but harshly wrapping the gauze around Sam's hand as he repeatedly yelps 'ow' and 'Jesus fucking Christ!'.

When Sam's hand is finally done, he refuses to talk to Dean. His hand is throbbing and Dean's done a shit job of putting it in a temporary cast. He ignores Dean, is even so stubborn that he refuses to eat dinner, at least not the kind Dean made. And he's practically handicapped now, so the best he can make is toast. Toast for dinner.

"Aw, c'mon, Sammy, you're not really mad at me, are you?"

No answer.

"Sammy?"

Nothing.

"Sam."

Sam carefully takes out the toast with his good hand.

"Sam!"

Sam feels his good hand being smacked, the toast falling from his grip. His jaw drops, and he goes bug eyed. His dinner lies on the floor.

"Dean! Are you kidding me? That's the only thing I could make for dinner and for Christ's sakes, I used the last pieces of toast too! Dammit, Dean!"

Dean just grins happily, "Made you talk."


End file.
